


Sick as a Dog

by actually18pigeons



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BAMF John, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Sherlock is a Mess, Sick Sherlock, Sickfic, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:47:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21601702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actually18pigeons/pseuds/actually18pigeons
Summary: Just a sickfic - don't know what it'll develop into but there'll be whump and comfort.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 25





	Sick as a Dog

John got a call from Mrs. Hudson as he was driving back to Harry’s apartment. “Hey John, I think Sherlock might be sick, he won’t confirm it, but he didn’t sound like himself when I brought him his tea this morning, he said he’s fine and stopped talking to me, can you come check on him?”

He sighed, dialing Harry to let her know he wouldn’t be home till later. A 15 minute drive later John pulled up to the flat, subconsciously climbing the stairs, carrying his work bag over his shoulder. John lightly knocked on the door, not really expecting an answer. He grabbed the keys off his key ring, opening the door quietly. 

“Hey Sherlock? It’s me. Mrs. Hudson called and sent me to check on you.” With no response, John slipped his shoes off, padding into the living room. “Sherlock?” There’s a crash from the bathroom followed by a string of quiet curses. Sighing, John walks through Sherlock’s bedroom into the attached bathroom. Inside Sherlock is lying on the floor, wearing only his boxers, the smell of vomit acrid in the air. Hearing John enter, he rolls onto his back, glassy eyes flickering, finally settling unfocused on John. He groans softly, a shaky hand running through his disheveled hair. 

“I told Mrs. Hudson John was fine,” Sherlock mumbled. John sat down next to his legs, leaning against the wall. 

“Well clearly you weren’t too convincing,” John slid a hand onto his forehead, “Damn it Sherlock, this isn’t fine, you’re burning up,” Sherlock coughed, feebly swatting John’s cold hand away. He sat up abruptly, abs tightening as he retched into the toilet.

“Sherlock,” he finished dry heaving, spitting into the bowl once more, and leaned hit cheek onto the porcelain. John reached his hand to touch Sherlock’s back, ignoring the slight sheen of sweat. Sherlock tensed at my touch, back muscles straining, “Sherlock, I promise your bed is far more comfortable than the toilet seat.” He huffed, eyes rolling slightly. John smiled lightly, “Am I going to need to carry you? You know I can and you know I will.” His lips twitched upwards but his head remained on the porcelain.

“Shut up John, I can handle this, I didn’t even ask you to come, you could have stayed with Harry, I can deal with this on my own.” 

“I’d like to say I believe you, but last time you were ‘handling’ your pain, you ended up passed out on the living room floor, so apologies if I don’t exactly trust you.” John wrapped his arm around Sherlock’s waist, pulling him close as he rose to his knees. His head flopped against John’s shoulder, face in the crook of his neck. John smiled realizing how out of it he must be to be in this position. John rose to his feet, with no response from Sherlock. He remained unresponsive as John wrapped a loose arm around his shoulder, the other arm gripping his waist tightly.

Sherlock’s eyes flickered open once he was on his bed, he rolled onto his side as John grabbed his bag from the hall. “Hey Sherlock, do you want to put some clothes on?”

His eyebrow twitched, lips quirking upwards, “I don’t know John do you want me to put clothes on?” John smirked at his out-of-character attempted humor. 

“I don’t really think I should have input on this matter.” Sherlock nodded lazily into his pillow letting out a sigh. John walked into his closet grabbing what looked like a moderately clean t-shirt, and a pair of pajama pants, throwing them onto the bed. “Okay, I’m going to grab some stuff from the store, I’ll be back in a bit, just get some sleep,” John walked out of his room, “Oh and put your clothes on!”


End file.
